Dissipating Awkwardness
by Imitating Licentiousness
Summary: What happened after the Quarantine? Ronon/Keller, and, as the summary implies, spoilers for Quarantine. I said it was a one-shot. I lied.
1. Chapter 1

It wasn't that they were avoiding each other. That wasn't the case, not at all. In fact, they saw each other all the time--at breakfast, in the hallways, staff meetings, needing to patch up someone after a sparring match that Ronon had escorted to the infirmary. And every time they saw each other, it was Ronon smirking at her in the hallway, two seconds from a wink, and Jennifer smiling back for a moment before hastily looking down at her feet, suppressing the urge to squeal and hiding her reddening cheeks.

It was that they weren't actually _talking_. They hadn't talked since everyone had dinner after the quarantine a week ago and their almost kiss (_Damn it_, _Radek_, she'd thought quite often lately). Jennifer's excuse was that she had been busy. Busy, busy, busy. Someone had been on leave for the weekend back on Earth and had come back with a particularly nasty strain of the stomach flu, and now the staff were getting sick right and left. One wouldn't think that however many light years and miles they were from home, you'd still need a flu shot.

But, other than Rodney coming into the infirmary every day with phantom flu symptoms like sweaty palms and pink tongues, things went this way for awhile--not really talking other than the occasional "Good morning" or "Please pass the pepper," or, "Did you really have to dislocate his shoulder, Ronon?"

He was so confident. It both drove her insane and made him all the more attractive. Everything he did, he was so sure of himself, as though he knew exactly what he was doing, whereas she felt more anxious and unsure than ever.

Which, of course, he did. Men.

Ronon calmly let a few more days pass. As impatient as he was, there were some things that were worth waiting for, and waiting was half the fun of wanting, he knew. Besides, it wasn't as though she wasn't putting him through hell, either. The other day, she'd asked him to pass the pepper, and he'd lifted it in her direction. Her smooth fingers had curled around it, brushing across his, and he damn near shivered at the sudden knowledge of just how soft her skin was. Then, yesterday, he'd been in the infirmary with Sheppard (Sheppard had gashed his arm on their latest mission and needed stitches), and Jennifer had taken her hair out of its clippy when it got loose before shaking it out, sending a puff of vanilla and flowers and something deeper, spicy, in Ronon's direction. She had replaced her clippy seconds after with her hair in a new bun, but not until he'd had three separate daydreams of that silky hair, bouncing, sliding, falling in her eyes…

"Are you all right, Ronon?" Jennifer had asked.

He snapped back to reality and realized he was gripping the counter of her instrument tray so tightly, his knuckles felt numb and the tray was scooting across the floor ever-so-slightly.

"I'm fine. Later."

"_That_ was abrupt," John remarked.

"Mm," was her reply.

So she was surprised when Ronon came in a few days later with a deep scratch on his neck, just below his right ear.

"Got grazed by a bullet," he explained.

She grimaced. "Have a seat."

Ronon plopped down on the chair closest to the fresh tray of sterile utensils and tied his hair in a ponytail.

"This is going to scar," she murmured as she carefully cleaned the wound with antiseptic.

He shrugged. "Wouldn't be the first time."

"You'll need stitches." Jennifer pulled up an adjustable chair next to him, fixed it so she could actually reach his height comfortably, and numbed the area before beginning a neat row of stitches.

Ronon tried very hard not to think about the tiny puffs of warm breath breezing across his earlobe and neck. "Mm."

"Sorry," Jennifer said, assuming she was hurting him.

"It's okay," he near-whispered. Then, "So, you've been avoiding me."

She frowned. "Not really. I've been busy. The flu and all."

"Right." His tone suggested he didn't believe her in the slightest bit.

"I haven't! I've had so many people come in here, and you just have to tell them, 'It's a virus, you have to let it run its course.'" Her fingers traced down his ear.

This time, he couldn't hold back the shudder.

Jennifer stepped back and looked at him in concern. "You okay?"

He shrugged cheerfully. "Cold chill."

She continued her stitch and tied it off carefully before placing a bandage over the wound, gently pressing medical tape to secure it.

"There you go. Feel better?"

He nodded. "Still hurts a little."

"Aw, poor thing. Here, I'll kiss it and make it better."

"_What_?"

"Your Mom never did that? You know, you get a boo-boo, and one of your parents would kiss it to make it better?"

"A boo-boo?"

Jennifer could tell the word tickled Ronon. She rolled her eyes, before leaning forward and placed a chaste kiss on his bandage over the wound. "See? Now your boo-boo is supposed to feel better."

"It does, kind of."

They stared at each other for a moment.

"Um, so…what _was _that the other day, during the quarantine?" Jennifer asked.

"What was what?"

"Uh, you know…" She reddened, then turned and busily began tossing the items on the cart into a sterilizing bin with a clatter. "Never mind. I guess it was one of those, you know, life-or-death situations, and , uh, things just…it's just one of those things when you're so worried, and then, when you get out of it, it doesn't really matter…"

"Hey, Jen?"

She took a deep breath, cringing before turning around. "What?"

"My lip hurts. Will you kiss that and make it better?"

She smiled softly before stepping towards him. Jennifer leaned down, and softly, gently kissed the corner of his lower lip. She pulled back. "Better?" she whispered.

Ronon smiled. "Almost." He reached forward, hands on her hips, and pulled her forward again before nibbling on her neck.

Jennifer inhaled deeply, tilting her head to the side as he kissed his way up her neck and over her jaw line. Her eyes involuntarily closed as he smoothed her chin with his lips, then kissed her full on the mouth, slowly. Her hand touched his face, other hand gripping his upper arm. He deepened the kiss, tongue slipping seductively into her mouth while he pulled her up closer to him and wrapped his arms around her.

"Hey, Doc--oh!"

Jennifer and Ronon broke apart abruptly, only to see Rodney standing in the doorway, a look of immense surprise on his face. It quickly turned to fear when he saw Ronon glowering at him, joined by a scowling Dr. Keller, who folded her arms across his chest.

"Yes, Rodney?" she said flatly.

"I, uh, thought I might be sick, but, I guess I'm just going to come back later…"

"You do that," Ronon said, his voice rumbly and annoyed.

Rodney turned and practically fled the infirmary while Jennifer turned back around to face the man she'd seriously just considered asking if she could rip off his shirt, her fingers rubbing across her lips. "I, uh…maybe this isn't the best place to start this…we have to be professional…"

Ronon nodded. "I'll come get you at the end of your shift." His rough hand slid slowly down her smooth arm, squeezing her hand.

"I'll be here," she whispered breathlessly, almost as though she were intoxicated.

He kissed her once more, quick but firm and deep, before turning and striding out of the room, leaving Jennifer to smile to herself before it turned into a wide grin, already anticipating tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Special thanks to deal4321. Thanks again to everyone who reviewed and said such sweet and wonderful things. I appreciate it so much, and more reviews mean more stories.

* * *

Five minutes after Ronon left. Ten. Twenty. The clock ticked by unusually slowly. Generally, Jennifer found that there were never enough hours in the day, and now there were all too many. Her shift ended at nine tonight. It was two-thirty.

Now two thirty-eight.

And then, the worst thing that could have happened to her on a day like this did, starting with the slishy-sloshy feeling in her stomach. Not quite pain, but that discomfort that let you know something wasn't right.

And then, at three-fifteen, there was definitely pain in her tummy, and a headache beginning to settle right behind her eyes. There was a definite weakness in her limbs, and she felt incredibly heavy.

Oh, no. Not now. Not now, today of all perfect days when less than an hour ago she'd kissed the most perfect man in this and the other galaxy. Three seconds later and she was running for the bathroom and losing her lunch.

"Oh, God, not the flu. Please," Jennifer wailed to the toilet seat. She spit, then sniffled. _No, no, no, no, no. This cannot be happening._

The poor woman threw up twice more within a half hour, and by that time, there was nothing left in her stomach, and still she vomited. Finally, exhausted, she curled up in the fetal position next to the toilet, resting her head on a roll of toilet paper.

* * *

Which is exactly where Ronon found her, five minutes 'til nine. She was asleep, shivering, and feverous.

"Jennifer?" he said softly, crouching down next to her. "Jennifer, wake up." He reached out, gently squeezing her shoulder until her eyes opened and she blinked, looking up at him.

"Ronon?" Jennifer's voice was weak. "I'm sick. You should go. I don't want you to catch it."

"I'll take my chances," Ronon replied. Rolling her to her back, he scooped her up and carried her out of the bathroom, down the hall, and to the living quarters.

Sheppard passed them on the way, looking at Ronon with an eyebrow cocked. "Is she all right?"

"She's got the flu," he answered. "I'm going to take her to her room."

"Give her lots of fluids," Sheppard instructed. "Try to get her body temperature down. I'll go and let Carter know she's sick."

"Thank you," Jennifer's eyes were closed, but she tightened her grip around Ronon's neck and snuggled a little more into his shoulder as he turned on his heel and carried her into her room.

Crossing the room, he carefully lay her down on one side of the bed before moving to the other side to pull the covers down. Then, Ronon untied her shoes and placed them neatly side by side near her night stand, before pulling off her socks and putting them next to her shoes. Helping her sit up, he removed her jacket, then slid her under the covers and pulled them up to her chin.

"I think I might throw up again," Jennifer groaned, rolling onto her stomach and putting her cheek on the cooler pillow.

Quickly, Ronon strode across the room, retrieved the waste basket from the bathroom, and placed it next to her side of the bed. "What should I do?" he asked.

"As much as I want you to stay, believe me, you need to go. You could get the flu," Jennifer told him, eyes still shut tightly as she tried to block out the way the bed seemed to be rolling. "I'm so sorry, Ronon. I was looking forward to later, and I never thought--"

"I'm not leaving you," Ronon told her firmly. "John said you needed lots of fluids. What kind?"

"I'm not going to get rid of you, am I? Even if it's for your own good?"

Ronon folded his arms across his chest and shook his head. "No."

"I need something fizzy, to help settle my stomach. Something like 7-Up or Sprite."

"Anything to eat?"

"_No_!"

"Be right back," he told her. But, first, he leaned down and kissed her forehead quickly, then hurried out of the room and down the hallway towards the cafeteria.

A few minutes later, and he was carrying back a 2-liter of Sprite and a paper cup full of ice. He dropped by the infirmary where a substitute doctor was already waiting, and got the pills. When he entered Jennifer's quarters, she'd thrown up again, and was now burrowed under the covers, shivering.

Ronon poured her a glass, then supported her back while he put her pillows behind her head, helping her to sit up, before sitting down on the other side of the bed and holding the Sprite to her lips to help her drink and swallow the pills. Then, despite her protests, he pulled the covers off of her, leaving her only a sheet.

"It's cold," she whined.

"No, it's not. You've just got a fever, and we have to bring it down," Ronon told her.

"This is so embarrassing," Jennifer lamented. "Our first date and I throw up all over the place."

Ronon shrugged. "There's worse things that could happen."

"Like what?"

"The Wraith could've showed up."

Jennifer flopped back onto the pillows. "I guess that's true. It's just that this evening was supposed to be fun and we were supposed to get to know each other and kiss some more, and now I'm all gross and smell like vomit and you'll probably never want to date me." She buried her face in her hands.

"Hey," Ronon said. He reached up and pulled one of her hands down. She opened one eye and peeped at him. "People get sick. It happens. Not something you can help. And just because you're sick doesn't change that I like you. You'll get better, have a shower, and we'll finish what we started. Including kissing."

She gave him a tiny smile. "You're so great."

He smirked. "I know. Now, do you have a box?"

Jennifer stared blankly at him. "A box?"

"Yeah, you know, one of those boxy things Sheppard talked about, that you can see the movies in?"

"Oh, the TV, you mean."

"Yeah."

Jennifer nodded in the direction of her dresser. "Over there. We don't get the Earth channels here, but I've got some DVDs on the shelf."

Ronon got up and turned the TV on. "What do you want to watch?"

"You pick."

"Nah, you're sick. You should get to pick."

She smiled. "You're sweet."

He grinned.

Jennifer sighed. "Um, I guess, The Fifth Element. Something for both of us. Explosions _and_ romance."

Ronon scanned the shelf until he found it, placed it in the DVD player, and lay down next to her on the bed, taking her small hand in his large one and stroking it with his thumb. Five minutes into the credits and she was already out. He smiled to himself and leaned back.

* * *

Three days later, and the flu had pretty much ran its course. Ronon had stayed with her most of the time, making sure she drank her Sprite, took her medicine, and placing cool cloths on her forehead.

Jennifer (showered, hair brushed, dressed, and non-nauseated) stood in her room, shaking out a fresh, clean sheet over the bed when Ronon knocked on the door. "Come in."

The doors slid open and he entered. "Hey."

"Hey!" She smiled.

"It's good to see you're feeling better."

"Thanks to you."

He went to the other side of the bed and grabbed the sheet, tucking it in while she did the other side, before they pulled the freshly laundered blanket over it. New pillowcases were slid on and placed neatly on the bed. Jennifer almost found it strangely intimate, making a bed with a man she'd kissed once and nothing more. It was somehow comforting.

_Maybe this was a good thing, after all_, Jennifer thought. If he could stay with her through vomiting, cold chills, sweat, and greasy hair, then perhaps there really was a future for them.

The met at the foot of the bed, toe to toe.

"Thank you," Jennifer said as she reached her hand up to stroke his jaw line, "for taking care of me."

"Anytime."

They stared at each other.

"I, uh, I think that we had started something we didn't get to finish," Ronon reminded her.

She didn't need reminding. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she fused her body against his, then found his mouth with hers. His hand snaked around her back, fingers playing in the area where the bottom of her shirt met the top of her jeans, tracing a finger along that thin, smooth line of skin, before sliding his hands up her back, but somehow staying in the area of modesty, before gliding back down to grip her hips as his mouth moved with hers, taking and giving all at once, and then the door was knocked again.

Jennifer sighed, and couldn't help giving him several small kisses before pulling away and answering the door. It was one of her lab techs.

"Hey, Dr. Keller," the tech said apologetically. "I know you've been sick, it's just that we need to get into the supply cabinet, and we can't find the spare key."

Jennifer nodded understandably. She turned to Ronon. "Be right back."

It took a few minutes to get to the infirmary, open the lock to the cabinet, and make sure the techs and nurses had access, then a few more minutes to get back. When Jennifer re-entered her room, she found Ronon sitting on her bed, skin pale, a strange look on his face.

"Ronon? What's wrong?"

He looked up. "I don't feel so good."

_Dammit_.


End file.
